


Gift

by rodabonor



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Forced Eye Contact, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 18:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16665664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rodabonor/pseuds/rodabonor
Summary: “What do you want?”“I want you to look at me.”“Even though it’s hard for me?”“I want you to look at me because it is hard for you.”Will and Hannibal get married and celebrate their engagement, wedding night and anniversary all at once. They spend the night pushing each other's buttons.





	Gift

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic I never got around to posting, but I'm trying to get back into the habit of sharing my writing again so here we are. I hope you enjoy it!

Hannibal slid the ring onto Will’s finger with an almost practiced ease, eyes backlit by affectionate warmth. Will turned his gaze away from the sharp angles of Hannibal’s face and watched the wedding band on his finger, glimmering in the faint light like a dying ember. 

Plain and inconspicuous, it was not entirely unlike the one he had worn for Molly. Solid gold, no inscription. He had lost her ring to the ocean and now he was replacing it, trading it in like currency for a new identity. He was Hannibal’s husband in this life. Supposedly they had moved from America to Sweden because Hannibal wished to return to the country in which he had grown up. Will was skeptical, but Hannibal claimed his accent could pass for a Swedish one, and Will had found that his trust in him came easily. 

Will still wasn’t sure when, exactly, that trust had emerged. If there even had been a pivotal moment. It might have been during their time of recovery, when their injuries left them both dependent on one another. All Will knew was that somewhere between feeding, washing and holding Hannibal at night, one hand over his heart to make sure it was still beating, he had found another layer of emotion draped on top of the anger, hurt and frustration. An ache, with the sharp consonant crack of Bedelia’s voice.

“Do you have a ring too?” Will asked. Hannibal nodded and reached into his pocket, holding up a seemingly identical ring for Will to see.

“May I?” Will reached out. The ring was dropped into his hand. Will took Hannibal’s hand gently in his and slid the ring onto his finger, motions almost identical to those of Hannibal’s mere moments ago.

“I suppose this is it, then.” Will squeezed around his hand. ”What’s ’married’ in Swedish?”

“Gift,” Hannibal smiled. ”Coincidentally, it is also the word for poison.”

Will scoffed softly. ”Romantic.”

Hannibal’s smile widened. “Appropriate, too, with its connotation to English. We are given to each other. My devotion, a gift. As is yours.”

“Poison.”

“Taken and given voluntarily.”

Will nodded. “We aren’t legally married though. I mean, not the two of us. The real us.”

“Does it matter?”

It didn’t. It was more real than his previous marriage had been. Will didn’t answer, just pulled Hannibal closer and kissed him on the mouth. He felt Hannibal’s eyelashes tickle against his cheek as his eyes fluttered closed and he kissed Will back, one hand slipping under Will’s shirt to touch the scar there. Will pressed into it, sighing into the kiss. Hannibal’s hands would often find their way there, stroking and kneading and claiming, like he was putting a signature to the piece of art he’d molded Will’s body into. It was a comforting thought: to be something valuable and deliberate in Hannibal’s eyes.

Will tugged on Hannibal’s hair and groaned, grinding his hips against Hannibal’s. A gentle hand was placed on his arm and Hannibal pulled back. 

“Dinner is in the oven,” he said. “We can pick up where we left off after.”

“Okay.” Will released a deep, slightly quivering breath. “I suppose we’re celebrating our wedding night. Or our engagement.” He thought for a moment, noting how it had been almost a year since they washed up on the shore. “Anniversary?”

Hannibal kissed his ear, affection warming his eyes once more. “All of it,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

*

Dinner passed by in comfortable silence. Hannibal spent most of it taking in the sight of Will, basking in the realness of the moment. Their evening was not anything out of the ordinary, but Hannibal still felt like it was. They ate and cleared the table and washed dishes together, and Will’s ring caught the light with every flick of his wrist, making Hannibal think of teacups and rain and glue.

“I’ll go take a shower,” Will said when the kitchen was tidied up. Hannibal nodded; Will always took a shower in the evening. “Will you wait for me in the bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” 

Will smiled and Hannibal watched him walk away, studying the familiar curve of his back with a building pressure in his chest. It remained as he made his way into their shared bedroom, where he undressed all the way down to his underwear. He listened to the distant sound of the shower’s creaky knobs being turned and the loud spray of water against skin and tiles. Will would be standing with his head bowed, hair sleek and slick against the back of his neck, muscles shifting and bunching as he lathered himself up with soap and rinsed it off with effortless grace. Like a statue in a fountain come to life.

Suddenly, Hannibal was not content with the mere mental image. He walked out of the bedroom and into the unlocked bathroom, not bothering to announce his arrival. Will always knew. A dark-haired head turned towards him and pink lips stretched into a smile.

“Impatient?” Will said, turning off the shower. He reached for a towel and dried off before wrapping it around his waist.

Hannibal gave a slight smile and held out his hand. Will took it and let himself be drawn close. Small droplets still clung to his skin and Hannibal once again thought of statues and fountains. 

"I wanted to see you. I couldn't wait."

"You didn't want to wait."

"It seems to me like the same thing. I needed you. Now I have you."

Will huffed and shook his head. He was smiling just a little. “I’m almost kind of nervous,” he said. “Nothing’s really out of the ordinary.”

Conjoined, Will had called them. It didn’t surprise Hannibal that they experienced the evening the same.

“No,” he agreed. “But we’ve acknowledged this for what it is.”

“What is it?”

“A mutual exchange. The gift of our devotion, offered and received.”

Will tipped his head and kissed Hannibal's mouth, lips barely brushing against his. Hannibal tugged at the towel around Will’s waist and let it drop to the floor. He wanted Will wearing nothing but the scars he’d been given and his wedding band.

Will breathed harshly as Hannibal pushed him up against the cold tile of the wall and kissed him deeper, letting his tongue drag against Will’s. He whimpered when Hannibal’s teeth closed around his lower lip, rocking up to grind against Hannibal’s thigh. 

“Can I—” Will paused and trailed his hand down Hannibal’s stomach to push his palm between his legs.

“Whatever you want,” Hannibal reminded him. Will nodded and turned them around, so Hannibal leaned against the wall instead. Then he got down on his knees on the hard floor and stroked lightly over Hannibal’s bare thighs, palms warm and dry, face rubbing against the still soft bulge between his thighs.

Will’s breath spread and seeped into the fabric of Hannibal’s underwear like liquid heat. He felt himself harden quickly and sighed as Will mouthed around his cock, a teasing pressure that had blood pounding in his ears. Finally, Will pulled his boxers down and bared his cock to the chilled air, giving it a few wet kisses before sliding the foreskin down to suck on the tip.

“Ah, Will—”

“Mmh,” Will made a pleased sound around his mouthful, eyes fluttering closed. Hannibal had been surprised to find how much Will seemed to enjoy this particular act; he supposed he had thought of Will as a practical person in all areas of life, more concerned with necessity than flair. But Will would draw it out with teasing kisses and exploratory licks, often surrendering his hands and using only the tight seal of his mouth and the firm clutch of his throat to make Hannibal come apart. 

Frankly, it was the most arousing thing Hannibal knew. The sight of Will on his knees before him, during, and then after, with his mouth still soft and slack and quivering with his heaving gasps, his eyes wide and glazed over. He looked like he was drowning. Hannibal knew because he had seen that as well. Will could be swept away by the waves as much as he could be them, brought down crashing just like Hannibal. Perils of emulsion.

His eyes were usually closed or half-lidded, and only ever fixed on Hannibal’s thighs. They were now, too – dark lashes curving above pale cheeks. Will gripped the back of Hannibal’s thighs with both hands and slowly started taking Hannibal deeper, gagging slightly, even though he fought it. Hannibal could imagine the way tears were gathering behind his eyelids and realized that he wanted to see it.

“Look at me,” Hannibal said. Will made a faint noise between a moan and a protest. Hannibal put his hand on Will’s cheek and tried to tilt his head up to show his insistence, and Will made a sound that was definitely a protest before pulling back.

“What are you doing?” he said between labored breaths, clearly annoyed. “You know—you know eye contact is hard for me.”

“I know it’s hard with other people. I haven’t seen you evade eye contact with me in years. Why is it hard for you now?”

Will narrowed his eyes. A scowl pulled at the edges of his mouth. “It’s hard because it’s hard,” he said, sounding defensive and almost wounded. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Are you afraid of what you’ll see when you look at me?”

“No. I know you like it.”

“Of what you will see of yourself then? Your shamelessness. Your contentment in being on your knees, offering me pleasure at the price of your own comfort.”

Will scowled in earnest, baring his teeth. “What do you want?”

“I want you to look at me.”

“Even though it’s hard for me?”

“I want you to look at me because it is hard for you.” 

Understanding dawned on Will’s face. Hannibal hesitated for a split second before stroking Will’s hair. The gesture was meant to comfort them both, but it might come across as patronizing. Most of the time, their interactions were machinery-smooth, cogs turning effortless and without fail, but once in a while one of them would say or do something that trudged up old aches, and they weren’t always good at soothing them. Hannibal hated it. He wanted no room for misunderstanding between them.

Will seemed to accept Hannibal’s hand in his hair for what it was, though, and Hannibal thought of telling Will that he didn’t have to look if it was too hard for him. Or, perhaps, that he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do at all. 

“I love you terribly,” is what he said instead. Will seemed to soften.

“You want to push me, but you don’t want me to resent you.”

“You enjoy being pushed to a certain extent. But boundaries aren’t my strong suit.”

Will gave a half-smile. “I don’t think here is where I’d draw my line in the sand.”

“Very well.” Hannibal touched Will’s cheek and Will shuffled closer again, kissing the tip of his cock once before opening his mouth to take it between his lips. He slowly started lifting his gaze and made eye-contact for a brief second before looking away again. Hannibal gave him time. Finally, Will’s eyes flicked up and he met Hannibal’s gaze once more, this time with determination. 

“Very good,” Hannibal said. His hand still cupped Will’s cheek. “You have beautiful eyes, Will.”

Will blinked quickly, like he was surprised. Then his cheeks flushed pink, which Hannibal found exceptionally endearing. Will once again took him deep, until Hannibal could both feel and hear him gag. Will’s hands tightened on his legs and he blinked as his eyes started watering, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he reached for Hannibal’s hands and placed them at the back of his head, which he usually did when he wanted Hannibal to take control. 

“You want me to use your mouth,” Hannibal said, not quite a question, gripping tight around his curls. Will’s piercing gaze held all the confirmation he needed. “I will see what it does to you. I’ll see it in your eyes. Your pleasure and discomfort.”

A muffled sound in Will’s throat, and then Hannibal started to rock slowly against his face, pushing his cock between his lips again and again – shallowly at first, then deeper. Will’s eyes welled up with tears as he pushed down his throat, making them almost luminous. His irises were almost lost to the black of his pupils, and there was such determination and need there. Hannibal couldn’t get enough of it, couldn’t even keep track of everything he found in those lidded eyes filled with carnage and lamplight. The one thing he didn’t find was uncertainty.

 _Beautiful_ , Hannibal thought, or maybe he spoke it out loud. He pulled out entirely and Will drew a ragged breath, just once, before Hannibal guided himself back between his lips and pushed down his throat again. His eyes were wide and glazed; Hannibal thought of drowning. He could feel the way Will trembled, the way his hands gripped desperately onto the back of his thighs as though they were a life line.

“Will,” Hannibal sighed. Will moaned, and then Hannibal couldn’t hold back any longer. His orgasm pulsed through him, and all the while, their eyes remained locked onto each other, and he let Will see what he was doing to him too; the twitching in his face, the helpless parting of his lips. His eyes going out of focus, blinking quickly as pleasure tore through him.

Once Hannibal slumped against the wall, Will pulled away and crumpled beneath him, breathing heavy and uneven. A thin line of spit and semen hung from his mouth, dripping onto the floor. Hannibal kneeled in front of him so they were eye to eye.

“Sorry,” Will husked out, gesturing vaguely to the floor or himself or both. He was a mess of mussed, wet hair and tear-stained cheeks, come glistening on his lips and chin. He made to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, and Hannibal grasped his wrist.

“You’re perfect,” he said and pushed Will onto his back. He licked his palm and wrapped it around Will’s cock, pushing two of his free fingers into Will’s warm, sticky mouth. Will groaned, his hips giving a sharp jerk up into the tunnel of his hand. Hannibal stroked Will quickly and firmly while feeling the steady pressure on his fingers, Will’s mouth working them as efficiently as his cock. The ring on Hannibal’s finger had felt chilled when Will first put it on him, but now it had grown warm, like Will’s skin, like Hannibal’s skin. He wondered if Will felt it too, like their rings were melded with their flesh.

Abruptly, Hannibal wished that he was inside Will instead – a more tangible consummation. He imagined being on top of Will like this, blanketing him, feeling his tightness and heat. Maybe he’d grip Will’s hair and yank his head back, forcing his throat to be bared to him. Maybe he’d keep Will pinned so he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t move away from him, couldn’t run, could never part with him again.

Will gave an unintelligible noise and a sharp jerk of his hips, then he spilled all over Hannibal’s hand. His teeth clamped down like a mousetrap around Hannibal’s fingers, grinding at the fine bones there. Hannibal let him bite. When Will had gone boneless and still, he pulled his fingers out and put them in his own mouth, tasting Will on his fingertips.

“Come here,” Will muttered, pulling him down and winding an arm around him. “God, that was good,” he sighed softly.

“It always is,” Hannibal said. “You enjoyed my fingers in your mouth. Because it’s reminiscent of the act?”

“I can still taste your come at the back of my throat. No psychoanalysis.”

Hannibal remained quiet. Will shifted. “I like that I’m not able to talk. It’s easier to let go and lose myself in what we’re doing when I’m not expected to say anything. I can just let it happen.”

“That’s why you don’t want to maintain eye-contact. Non-verbal communication.”

“I like your end of the conversation,” Will said. “Just not mine.”

“I enjoyed it immensely.” 

Hannibal put his arm around Will’s middle and held him close, nosing at his hair, taking a deep, slow breath. Often – too often – he felt retroactively jealous, wishing he could have been the only one to have had Will this way, knowing it wasn’t so. Other strong arms might have wrapped around him. Others had opened sweetly to Will, as Will might have opened to them. How many people had seen his lips colored a splotchy red from being bitten, by his own teeth or someone else’s? Whose fists had gripped around Will’s hair to thrust freely into that soft, wet mouth full of give and greed? 

It seemed impossible to Hannibal that someone else might have filled his place in Will’s body and thoughts and presence, but he knew it to be so. After all, Will had been married.

“Have you had sex with a man before?” Hannibal asked. It could not be helped.

Will frowned. “Before you? No.” A flicker of uncertainty passed across his face. “I, uh—I almost had sex with a man after you went to prison. That’s it.”

Will paused, frown deepening. Hannibal waited. 

“I didn’t want to admit to myself that it would’ve been to get close to you,” Will said, “but I never really sought out guys before, so. Go figure.” 

“How did you find him?”

“Some hookup app. He was into dominance. Bondage, stuff like that. I thought—” Will closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I figured if he was quiet, he could blindfold me and it’d feel like you. He could hurt me and maybe it’d feel like you.”

Hannibal didn’t know what he was feeling, but it clawed at his chest like a wild animal. “And you would have enjoyed that?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. It wouldn’t have been about enjoyment.” Something pulled on Will’s lips, but it wasn’t a smile. “I missed you. That’s all.”

Hannibal stroked a few strands of hair behind Will’s ear, almost absently, thumb swiping over Will’s cheek. The wild thing still scratched behind his ribs, but Will’s warm skin beneath his fingertips soothed it. “Tell me what happened.”

“I lost my nerve. And I knew it wouldn’t have felt like you. Only you feel like you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t go through with it. It’s one of the most appalling things I can imagine. Games and pretense and controlled access.”

“Yeah.” Will lowered his gaze. “I guess you’d want to hurt me without restraint. No safe words, no possibility of escape.”

“You know that’s not true. I enjoy the variety of your expression. I only crave authenticity. The full, rounded flavor of emotion.”

“You’re getting it right now,” Will said. He drew a deep breath through his nose and released it, sounding mournful. “We just celebrated our engagement, wedding night and anniversary on the bathroom floor.”

“The night isn’t over. Let me take you to bed.”

Will smiled, though it was tight; not the effortlessly happy smile he would have offered moments ago. “I can take myself, thanks.”

“I can take you past the threshold.” Hannibal’s lips twitched into a smile and he got up on his feet. “I carried you once before. I doubt it was a pleasant experience for either of us. A do over would be welcome.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Hannibal tipped his head to the side. “You said it was good to relinquish the burden of expectation. To let things happen to you. Let it happen.”

That seemed to strike a chord with Will when nothing else did. He nodded and Hannibal picked him up, not without effort. But he had considerable experience with lifting dead weight and Will was not as heavy as that. Hannibal felt his chest tighten as he noted the way Will tried to make himself smaller, burying his face in the crook of his neck, drawing his knees up. The rabbiting beat of his heart was all Hannibal heard as he made the short walk to the bedroom and took them both over the threshold, placing Will down on the bed as gently as he could.

“Wait here,” he told Will. Will frowned but said nothing. Hannibal went back to the bathroom and returned with a towel dipped in warm water that he used to dab the flaky come and spit away from Will’s face. Will looked down and shifted slightly as Hannibal wiped at the scarred side of his face. He was self-conscious about the dragon's mark, though he never said so. Hannibal laid down next to him and held him again, listening to the sounds of their house, the wind outside, the thrum of Will’s rabbit heart so close to his own.

“I met up with that guy from the app,” Will said. He sounded tense and a little urgent. “I tried to make him cut me, above the scar you left on my stomach. When he said it wasn’t safe, I thought about sucking his dick. Choking on it.”

Hannibal kept his face deliberately neutral. “But you didn’t.” 

“No. But I kept thinking about it after he left. About that tube you shoved down my throat, and the way I felt impaled on it. I remembered—” Will swallowed. “I remember the way you touched my face. Like you couldn’t help it. I wanted it so bad. To let him do anything. To let you do anything.”

“I would let you do anything to me too, Will. I share your urgency.”

“Do you?”

“You must know—”

“I don’t.”

“I do. I swear to you.”

Will glanced down at their hands, and the rings on their fingers. The only thing either of them was wearing. “You’d let me do anything,” he said, quietly, parroting back what Hannibal had just admitted.

“Yes.”

“I know,” Will said. “I’m sorry, I know.” He lifted Hannibal’s hand and placed a kiss on his ring, eyes closed. “I do.”

Hannibal’s chest clenched with that familiar tightness he had come to associate with Will exclusively. 

“Look at me,” he said. Will did. Again, Hannibal saw too much to keep track of. Need and determination, tenderness, even the ghosts of past sorrows. Everything but uncertainty.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are immensely appreciated. More of my Hannigram stuff can be found on my [tumblr](http://beatricenius.tumblr.com/) and my [twitter](https://twitter.com/beatricenius)


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